Nineteen Years Later
by redheaded-demon
Summary: Fred had children? Fred had TWINS? I suck at summaries. Basically follows the later years of Fred's children. FredxOC Mention of other pairings spawn within. read and review, pretty please? Slight DH spoiler.
1. Prolouge

Things for the Weasleys hadn't exactly been perfect since the Final Battle. They had to deal with the Funeral of Fred Weasley, for one thing, and that was just as dark and gloomy an affair as they had predicted. The fame that came after the war was just as bad. Poor Molly and Arthur were plauged by fanmail, by condolences and worst of all by claims.

You wouldn't believe the amount of witches who claimed to have slept with Fred Weasley. They all claimed he had proposed to them and therefore that they should be welcomed into the famous family. It broke the heart of the family. They were no longer certain of Fred. Molly and Arthur began to doubt him, they began to wonder if they even knew their son at all. Only George was completely steadfast in his support of his twin. He refused to believe the women who came flocking to the Burrows door. Fred was not the sort of person who womanized. George knew he had a partner, but never knew which witch to believe, there was just too many of them.

Then one day, someone else arrived at the door. The only one George was certain of. The only one his parents wouldn't believe.

She arrived rather unceremoniously, this one did. She walked up the path instead of apparating to the door step, as most of the others had done. George saw her through the window, checking the slip of parchment in her hand, scanning it to make sure she made no mistake. She inhaled deeply and raised her fist to knock timidly on the door.

'Another one? Already?' Molly sighed, exasperated.

'Another one. Already.' George replied with a grin. He made certain he was present for every interview. His parents might make a mistake, but he wouldn't. Still smiling, he went to answer the door.

'Hi George.' She greeted, offering him her hand, 'My name's Diana.' George immediately liked the way she didn't clap her hand to her mouth and mumble 'You look just like him.', and begin to cry silently. That sent alarm bells ringing almost instantly, every time without fail.

This one was different though. She wasn't the generic blonde bombshell that had taken to showing up at the door. No, she was rather plain looking, with wicked blue eyes and numerous poercings in her ears. Thick brown hair tumbled past her shoulders and she wore a loose fitting electric blue sundress.

Electric. The perfect word to describe her.

'Welcome, Diana, or may I call you Di? I'd introduce myself, but you seem to know me already.' George laughed.

'Who doesn't?' She replied, a small smile gracing her face.

'Come on in!' George ushered her inside.

She flashed him another weak smile and stepped inside the chaotic hall. She made her way to the sitting room without guidance, it was as if she knew the house already. The entire time her hand trailed the many surfaces. The old clock, the rickety hall table, a sturdy kitchen chair, memorizing every feature.

As soon as she enterd the sitting room, George knew there was a problem. Mollys' usually warm expression hardened, drinking in Dianas' piercings. Arthur frowned at her attire. It was the middle of October, after all. George stifled an aggitated groan. His parents had already dis-counted her before giving the girl a fair chance.

'Hello, Mr and Mrs Weasley. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. My name's Diana.' She said, extending her hand to the both of them. When neither of them accepted it, however, she let her hand drop to her side and stood rather awkwardly in the middle of the room.

'Sit. Relax. Don't and die.' George muttered, gesturing at the vacant arm-chair.

Diana shot him a grateful look and sank down into the sagging upholstry.

'I guess this must be difficult for you,' She mumbled, her hands clasped tight in front of her, 'God, I don't even know how many girls have been here before me...'

'Fifty-six.' Molly growled under her breath. She opened her mouth to say something else, but Arthur laid a restraining hand on her arm. George decided to take the initiative.

'How old are you, Diana?'

'Nineteen. I'll be twenty in May.'

'Where did you meet Fred?'

Another one of those gentle smiles lit her face, she was remembering, of that George was certain.

'At the Boars Wing. It's a pub in south London, near Diagon Alley. I sing part-time there, when I'm not studying. Earns me a bit of my own money.'

George nodded. He recognized the name. He and Fred had been there once, he was certain of it. He ignored his mothers' darkening expression and mutter of 'bar-fly' and pressed on, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

'How long were you seeing each other for?'

'Six months.' She replied without hesitation. Another good sign

'And finally, most important question, what do you want from us?'

Her brow furrowed.

'Want from you?' she questioned. All three Weasleys nodded.

'Nothing. I just wanted to meet the his family. See where he grew up...and...well...how can I put this...'

'You want money to stop you from going to the Prophet and telling all on the charming Fred Weasley.' Molly stated.

'Pardon me?' Diana said quietly. Her voice was soft, but it didn't stop George from shuddering. It was her tone that did it. The tone Molly used when she was about to lose her temper.

'You heard me. That's what all the others demanded. And, I'm sorry in advance, but we aren't dishing out money to...to **bar-flys** who have nough money to get _**ghastly**_ piercing in their ears and still go around begging for more off peoples deceased families.'

'Excuse me?' Diana snapped, bristling.

'You heard what I said. And if you didn't, I'd be glad to clean your ears out for you, sans piercings.'

George and Arthur cringed. That was taking things a little _too _far.

Daina leapt to her feet and stomped over to the couch.

'If you must know, Molly, I'm pregnant with _twins_ by your son. Fred Weasley. Never been with anyone else. I do not appreciate being treated like a whore. I was going to ask your for your signed permission to give them the surname they deserve. Not my name. Their **Fathers**. I didn't know how to phrase it.' She hissed.

'No,' Arthurs voice came quietly. Goerge jumped at the sound, his dad hadn't spoken in any of the other meetings, 'We can't trust you just yet. Maybe if you took Veritaserum, but..'

'No, I can't. It's bad for the babys.' Diana replied, ashen faced.

'Then I'm sorry.'

She nodded stiffly. 'Thank you for your time. My condolences.'

And she span on her heel and walked out the door, barely curbing her desire to slam it after her. George watched her through the window, stifling a sob before walking off down the drive.

He knew the instant she was out of the room that a big mistake had been made.

He glanced at the old family clock, the one with their names on it. Freds name had disappeared the day he died, George knew that. So why was he seeing it again? Why was the hand pointing to _Mortal Peril _?

He decided to look up this Diana later, when he was back at the shop. Only when he decided this did he remember he hadn't gotton her surname.

'Crap.' He muttered, fisting his hands in his hair. A very Big mistake indeed.

_**Prophet Announcemets**_

_The Daily Prophet is pleased to announce that last night, March the 21st, two children were born to Diana Candace Quigley. The Twins, a boy (Apollo Frederick Quigley) and a girl (Minerva Susannah Quigley) are both in a perfect state of health_

_Diana, at this point still expected to release a full statement, hasn't told anyone the name of the lucky Father. We here at The Prophet can only speculate he wishes to remain anonymous, although this has not stopped the gossip wheels turning._

_Susannah Quigley, Dianas Mother, was kind enough to spare us a few words. 'They're enchanting, my grand-children. Prettiest babies I have ever seen!' _

_To be expected we can reply._


	2. The Start of it All

AN: Thanks to everyone who reviewed and favourited! I hope you like this part too! Thanks again! Orla

Harry Potter and all it's affiliates belong to JK Rowling, etc.

* * *

If there was one thing Arthur Weasley hated about his many children "flying the coop" so to speak, it was the amount of free time that his wife now found on her hands. Molly, bored by the monotony of life in the burrow without her children (a life that she had been wishing for almost since the birth of their first child) decided that she would take on various "home improvement" projects. Projects that more often than not ended in disaster. There was that enchanted fountain with the stone mermaid that sang (Arthur could still hear it's guttural shrieks late at night, even though it was long gone) and then there was the more successful projects, like when she repainted the kitchen with the help of some nifty spells. But now she was getting desperate, even cooking meals for the colony of gnomes in the back garden, food Arthur felt would have been much better appreciated if she served it to him instead. His only night of respite was Monday, every Monday in the summer months to be exact, when Victoire came over with Molly's _**Witch Weekly**_ magazine. Those were the nights he looked forward to more than anything else, the nights when Molly couldn't bring herself to do anything but cook dinner and collapse into her favourite armchair to wait for Victoire.

It was one such Monday night. Arthur was anxious because Molly was anxious because Victoire was twenty minutes late. Twenty wasted minutes calming his wife down when he could have been investigating the new music-playing-device that Ginny had sent him a few nights back. Arthur was just thinking about how, if this was seventeen years ago, he would have been scared out of his wits for his eldest grandchild, would have been organizing a search party ten minutes ago, when he saw the dust-cloud that announced Victoire's imminent arrival.

'She's here!' he shouted to his wife as he went to answer the door, wincing as he heard Molly mutter something about 'getting the path fixed'.

'What path?' he whispered to himself as he almost wrenched the door off it's hinges.

Victoire arrived out of breath, her shimmering blond hair tied up in an immaculate ponytail, dressed in muggle attire that Arthur was surprised to see her wearing. She greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and then ran into her grandmother, calling her as she went.

'What do you think of this, Nan! He looks exactly like Dad!,' She said in a raised whisper, gesturing at the cover of the magazine, 'this is why I'm late, sorry bout that too, but I honestly thought somebody got a hold of some of dad's pictures when he was younger, and, well, you know how mum gets, and-'

Molly cut her off with a raised hand, in a sort of 'say no more' gesture. With trembling fingers and a sense of foreboding in her heart, she looked at the front of the magazine. Plastered on the cover was a laughing guy of about 18 years, who was the spitting image of a younger Bill. The eye shape, the thin mouth, the straight, roman nose. He was tall and lithe, muscular but not horrifically so. His hair was a shade darker than the trademark red of the Weasleys and he wore it chin length and swept to the side, like the skater style that the few muggles in the nearby village of Ottery St. Catchpole seemed so fond of. Most horrifying of all though, were the electric blue eyes that smiled almost mockingly at her, eyes that had haunted her since she had thrown their owner out of her house seventeen years ago. With trepidation, Molly turned to the page that was emblazoned with the shifting title;

"_**Hottest Bachelor of the times, Witch Weekly talks to Apollo Quigley!"**_

_Quigley Manor, ancestral home of the Quigley family since 1805,when the family settled in England, seems to just be waking up when I arrived to interview the only male heir to the family, Apollo Quigley. The immaculate gardens, that boast of such rare species as the Venomous Tentaciula and Lunulae Orchids, were lined by a quartz path that led up to the house's Georgian front door. I was welcomed by Susannah Quigley, grandmother to Apollo and his twin sister, Minerva. She herself has retained that grace and elegance that she was so renowned for in her high society days. She invited me inside with a warm smile and a cheery greeting. _

'_Sorry,' she said, 'Apollo isn't awake yet. He just flew in by broomstick last night from Germany, insisted on it. Said he had an important job for today and he had to get it done.' She sounds slightly disapproving, but there's more than a hint of pride in her voice. _

_Aside from her grand-sons modelling talent, he was also a beater on the Gryffindor house team while he was in school, it can only be presumed that he gets his good flying skills from his, as yet unknown, father._

_Susannah ushered me into her grandsons quarters, which were still dark seeing as the blinds were drawn. Old newspaper clippings littered the floor of his receiving room, one mentioning the passing of his mother, Diana Candace Quigle, who was run down by a muggle motor vehicle three years ago. Another tells of how his sister was awarded with the Order of Merlin, First Class, for her work on inter-Squib and Wizard relations. It was awarded to her just a year after their mothers death, when she (and her brother) were just sixteen. Susannah gestured at me to sit down and went to wake her grandson. _

_Apollo entered the room a half-minute later, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He positively beamed when he saw me. _

'_Hi!' he chirped, ecstatic, despite only being woken up a moment ago. He bounded across the wooden floor to meet me, hand outstretched before he was even at my side. He had a warm, firm handshake, something not very many young gentlemen seem to have these days. After introducing myself, we settled down on the sofa to begin, Susannah being kind enough to drop in a tray of toast and butter and two mugs of warm coffee. Apollo, with impeccable manners, might I add, thanked his grandmother, and turned his undivided attention on me._

'_I trust you found the house okay?'_

_I replied__ in the affirmative and then proceeded with the usual greetings._

_Then, almost too soon, it's time to get into the nitty-gritty._

'_So, Apollo, when exactly did you start working in the muggle world as a model?'_

_He pursed his lips and contemplates._

'_About two months ago I got spotted on the streets in London by a muggle model he had booked had pulled out at the last minute and he was panicking, so he was on the lookout for a new person when he spotted me,' he paused for a second, chewing his lip, 'I honestly have no idea why he was interested in me, but hey, when somebody comes over to you, shoves a legit(imate) business card in your face and offers you 500 quid to pose for a couple of photos, you're not exactly going to refuse, are you?'_

_It was this precise photoshoot that launched Apollo's stellar career into orbit.__ Since then, he has posed for many mainstream muggle fashion lines, bringing a few to the attention of the muggle world. Surprisingly, as we continued talking, none of this seems to have affected him. He isn't phased by his face being plastered on billboards the world over, nor is he bothered that he is in demand by designers the world over just to wear their clothes._

'_Does it ever get boring?'_

_He laughed out loud._

'_I think it will eventually, but right now? No way in hell. Plus the muggle cash is a welcome income!'_

'_Now, the most important question. What do you look for in a partner?'_

_He sighed dramatically and draped his hands over his eyes._

'_Always this question, huh?'_

'_Well, you are Witch Weekly's most eligible Bachelor 2018.'_

'_Fine...,' he smiled, ' I love a girl who can be herself around me, who doesn't care what anyone else thinks of her. She has to be fiercely loyal and have a lot of spunk too. I generally like them to be shorter than me, but hey,with my height, it's not a problem. I love brunettes, dark hair, dark eyes, tanned skin. You know what they say..Opposites Attract.'_

_He gave me one last grin then glanced at the clock. _

'_Uh-oh. Appointment time.' he murmured as I stood up to go. _

_He gave me his hand once more and kissed my cheek as he dashed out the door. _

_I can only say that this year, at least, a worthy candidate has received our award._

Molly's heart was pounding so hard she thought it would fly out of her chest. She was as white as a sheet and looked like she had just seen a ghost for the very first time. Victoire took one look at her and, concerned, asked if everything was okay.

Everything most certainly was not.


End file.
